True Confessions: I think Andy Capp is funny

Growing up, I always enjoyed reading the adventures of Andy Capp. He played snooker and soccer (yeah, he called it football, but I forgave him), he got stinking drunk, he hit on much younger lasses, he was loutish to his wife Flo, but, hey, he was a funny little SOB. Andy was funny in the local paper and in the little paperbacks I'd get from the department store.

One night I was watching "The Simpsons" when a bemused Homer Simpson, his nose in the newspaper, said, "Oh, Andy Capp, you wife-beating drunk." Well, that's a little harsh, I thought. A drunk, sure, but a wife beater? If anything, Flo seemed to be the one throttling him.

Years later, I have accumulated a handful of older little paperbacks collecting Capp strips from the 1960s, and, yeah, Andy slugs Flo quite a bit. Sometimes they both engage in a knockdown, dragout bowl that manifests itself in a big round circle of suiggly lines with a few fists emerging on the periphery. Sometimes Flo does something to Andy. More often, though, it's Andy hitting her or the aftermath, like Flo sitting on her duff after having landed on the street.

The absolute worst ones are the strips in which Andy threatens her by cocking a fist and she cowers and acquiesces to whatever he's on about. Somehow that's even more disturbing than the occasional "BOP!" of his fist hitting her jaw.

Here's the thing, though: As repellent as the notion of domestic violence for laughs is today, it's still cartoony enough that it doesn't bother me enough to put down the book. Yes, some of the menacing ones stick out as discomfiting, but the rest of it still makes me laugh. I still enjoy lazy Andy napping on the sofa, boorish Andy trying to pick up a barmaid, and even thuggish Andy picking fights with bill collectors or opposing rugby players. If it were a real person, the knowledge that he likes to slug his wife would forever tarnish him for me. But in a comic strip, I still enjoy his antics.

Am I a bad person? Or am I a decent bloke?

True Confessions: I went the whole movie mixing them up...

I was watching the 1999 thriller "Best Laid Plans," an early Reese Witherspoon joint, the other day and thinking, "Wow, that Craig Sheffer sure does play a smarmy SOB to perfection." I couldn't get over how the guy so convincingly played an a-hole all the time. "When it needs to cast someone as a smug jerk, Hollywood makes sure it has Craig Sheffer's agent in the Rolodex," I said.

Only one problem with my musings: It wasn't Craig Sheffer.

The whole movie, I was thinking the prick I was watching on screen was played by Craig Sheffer, when in fact it was Josh Brolin. I didn't realize this until the credits rolled.

OK, so it wasn't Craig Sheffer...that time. At least that's what the credits told me. Can we be sure it WAS Josh Brolin in that movie? Hey, Hollywood is full of trickery and hocus pocus and CGI. Despite pretty solid evidence--you know, the credits--I'm still not 100% convinced it was Josh Brolin I saw in "Best Laid Plans."

But if that was him, damn, Josh Brolin does a good Craig Sheffer.

True Confessions: Ride like the wind

Does anyone else, upon hearing Christopher Cross' "Ride Like the Wind" over the central sound system at the grocery store, immediately visualize themselves as a figure in some kind of thrilling chase sequence?

It's just me? No, it isn't! You lie. You LIE!

Yesterday wasn't the first time I've heard this particular song in a supermarket; nor will it be the last. Christopher Cross' brand of energetic Velveeta sailing "rock" will always be a perfect fit for store radio programmers looking to soothe yet kind of stimulate their customers.

The song triggers something in me that is more stirring than soothing, though. I pretend I'm a fugitive from international law (or something--what the hell kind of trouble DID Chris Cross get into that made him have to ride like the wind, anyway?) even as I gather my groceries. After all, I've got such a long way to go to make it to the border of Mexico that you can bet I'm gonna need provisions.

Milk: Check!
Bread: Check!
Sudafeds: Check. Hey, us fugitives have to fight colds as well as multi-agency manhunts, you know.
Rice: All right, this isn't as practical, but it was on sale.
Glazed doughnut with chocolate icing: Well, I'm entitled to a treat, aren't I? Besides, all that riding like the wind will burn off the empty calories.

I'd like to write that I had just time to assemble these items before making a furtive glance or two around me then darting out the store, but the truth is much less glamorous. I actually gave a polite nod to a lady who was ambling through the bakery section with her cart (though I DID entertain a suspicion that she was an undercover agent), went to the self-checkout, and paid for everything--with my own credit card, no less, a sequence which probably violated about 10 different rules of Cool Fleeing.

And anyway, the song was over well before then because I lingered in the magazine section to look at football previews.

Christopher Cross would be ashamed of me, perhaps, but the bottom line is I did make it out of the store and wasn't followed back to my house. I still have a long way to go (such a long way to go), but maybe I'll make it soon. And maybe Michael McDonald will be more forgiving.

True Confessions: Design Destination

OK, OK, I watched something on HGTV again the other night, but in my defense, I was with my wife, and besides, the focus of the show was the great nation of Aruba, also known as the honeymoon spot of yours truly and Mrs. Shark.

The concept of "Design Destination" makes for one super-sweet deal for the couple spotlighted. A big-shot TV designer (star of other HGTV productions, I'm told) sends the homeowners on a wonderful vacation (figuratively, I'm thinking, though it would be amusing to see scenes of her haggling with hotel owners and securing airfares), and they send back pictures and videos of their trip for "inspiration" as she redoes a problem spot in their house.

So, wait a minute, the lucky guy and gal gets an all-expenses-paid (again, I'm assuming, but HGTV might have made them kick in for expenses) vacation AND a makeover of a crappy part of their pad (in this case, the whole basement)? Sign me up!

What made this half-hour an enjoyable viewing experience for me and not a recipe for a good, old heap of seething resentment at someone else's good fortune was that the couple stayed at the same hotel we did in fabulous Aruba. The pair did many of the same activities and saw many of the same sights we did, too, which either means we planned our honeymoon well or else Aruba is just a damn small island.

As for the "inspiration" and design aspect, yeah, I guess that made some sense, but some of the connections were more obvious than others. I was skeptical of how the spiky aloe plants of the Aruban landscape inspired some of the decor, but even a slob like myself could understand why the big shot designer bought a huge ostrich egg to put in the basement. Aww, she's reminding the wife of the terror she felt when the mean birds nearly decapitated her while swarming for the food she was giving them!

This must be one of the best shows to be on--ever. Even if the designer misinterprets the videos you send back and does something wacky with your house, so what? You're still getting a remodeling job, and given that this couple consisted of a schoolteacher and a cop, I'm pretty sure it was all on the network's dime.

So, yeah, I watched some HGTV this weekend. Don't give me a hard time. It's an Aruban thing. I deserve a few moments to think about relaxing in the hot sun while I...uh, sit on my couch and think about how hot it is today.

True Confessions: Giving up on the Steelers

OK, I'll admit it: As soon as I read that Ben Roethlisberger was out for last Sunday night's game against the Ravens, I declared, "It's over." Nobody else was around, but I still made a pretty definitive-sounding declaration.

I repeated that declaration (I was getting good at it as the day progressed) to my wife and her uncle when we all sat down to watch the game. Hey, I love the Steelers, but I wasn't going to hitch my wagon to first-time starter Dennis Dixon, even if if I did enjoy watching him in the preseason. After all, the Ravens have plenty of menaces on their defense, villains with unsavory intentions, inspired by King Thug himself, Ray Lewis. Their subscribe to the "Win if you can, lose if you must, but always cheat," philosophy. I feared not just for Dixon's ability to win the game, but for his well-being.

I rooted for the Steelers, but I never thought they'd win on the road against a hated rival with a third-stringer at QB, others banged up and/or out, and after having beaten the team 3 times last year.

I gave my team no chance, and I feel ashamed.

They almost won, in fact, and the close loss was even worse than if they had been blown off the field--well, maybe not, but it stung awfully hard considering I had assumed an "L" was imminent before it even started--and, you know, why had I so little faith? I feel a little unfaithful, and this is why I must get this true confession out of the way.

Don't worry, though, Steeler Nation, I never left the flock, I just harbored some doubts. But this week, I am fully on board with the program, and I am guaranteeing a win against Oakland. Yep, I'm going to go ahead and say it right now: It's over.

True Confessions

This week, my wife and I watched the season finale of "Desperate Housewives," which resolved the season-long Dave Williams storyline. Dave, played with entertaining creepiness all year by Neal McDonough, conceived an elaborate revenge plan centered on killing Teri Hatcher's Susan and her little boy M.J.

It was a satisfying season-ender, but I gotta tell you: I used to scoff a tiny bit when I heard parents talk about how since they got children, they had trouble watching TV shows and movies that depicted kids in jeopardy. Well, "scoff" is a bit loaded, perhaps, but part of me was skeptical. "Come on," I'd often think, "fiction is fiction, and reality is reality."

Unfortunately, it's not so simple as being able to "tell the difference," as I well know now that I have a young daughter. Watching that episode made me cringe, squirm, and feel uncomfortable, but not always in a good way. Suspenseful entertainment is fine, but, man, there IS that identification factor where I visualize myself or my child, and want to kind of shudder. It's not impossible to view or even enjoy stories like this, but it is a lot tougher nowadays.

Do I feel guilty about feeling this way, you ask? No, of course not. Ah, you want to know what the True Confession is, huh?

Simple. I'm not embarrassed to admit that having a daughter affects the way I react to certain shows. After several years, though, I'm STILL embarrassed to admit I watch "Desperate Housewives."

True Confessions: 10 Reasons Why I'm Out of Touch

Today I come clean. You folks can't trust anything I say. I'm just not the kind of hip, with-it blogger the kids flock to. I'm wayyy out of touch, sports fans, and here are but 10 reasons why:

10) I don't own an iPod.
9) I haven't been to a movie theater in months.
8) "High School Musical"? Never seen it. Any of them, really.
7) I've never read a Harry Potter book nor a Stephen King novel.
6) I don't watch any of the "CSI" shows. I don't watch any of the CBS procedural hits, for that matter.
5) I don't have any interest in paying to download individual songs, and I'm hoping the physical CD survives for a while yet.
4) I have no presence on Facebook, MySpace, or Twitter.
3) I don't own a Wii or any version of Playstation.
2) I don't watch any of the following "buzzworthy" shows: "30 Rock," "The Office," "Gossip Girl," "Battlestar Galactica."
1) I think of Hall and Oates when I see the phrase "Out of Touch."

True Confessions: He's a Rebel

I feel like a real rebel today, folks. Want to know why?

Well, I'll tell you, but keep your voices down, will you? And don't repeat a word of this, mind you.

I rented a copy of Kevin Smith's "Zack and Miri Make a Porno" and watched it.

Yep, I sure did. I did this even though, since it's a Weinstein Company disc and that company has some kind of deal with Blockbuster, there is a big imposing message before the movie proclaiming...

THIS DVD IS FOR SALE ONLY.

It wasn't sold to me, and I didn't buy it. But I watched it, anyway! And I was able to watch it because I rented it!

Don't worry. I've taken precautions to make a quick escape in the event of an assault by the Feds on the sprawling Cultureshark Compound. I'll continue to post this week even though I may have to hole up in my underground communications center for a while.

True Confessions: My summer of (no) movies

So, you remember that whole Summer Crummy Movie Cavalcade thing, the project I hastily wrapped up the other day? The one in which I ripped on a bunch of movies?

Well, I have a confession to make. My credibility as an arbiter of the relative quality of summer movies may be somewhat lesser right now because, after all...

I didn't SEE any movies this summer. Not a single one. I didn't see any good ones, nor any bad ones, and not even any so-so ones. None at all!

This is the first summer in recent memory I haven't been to the theater. Oh, I see stuff on DVD and TV, of course, but since the birth of my wonderful baby girl about 6 months ago, I don't get out to the theater--or at all, really, at least not that much. I either don't have the time, the opportunity, or the energy these days. The Movie Theater has been replaced by Ah, Baby Went to Bed Theater at home.

I knew I was going to be hitting the multiplex less, but I HAD to see "Iron Man." Got to see that. Nope, it passed. Well, the new Indiana Jones movie was a must-see, right? Nope, missed that. OK, but the one movie I really, really wanted to see on the big screen was "The Dark Knight." Well, Mrs. Shark and I came close to seeing that one, but circumstances prevented it.

This isn't to say I'm blaming our daughter or anything. Heck, she might be doing me a favor. I was already tapering off my moviegoing habits for a variety of reasons, and the more I get out of the habit, the less money and time I spend at the theater. I do feel guilty about underserving you, the Cultureshark-reading public, though. I used to be a heavy moviegoer, seeing as many as 2 or 3 a week when I was rolling, but now...eh, not so much. Or at all. And I don't feel too badly about that as far as my life goes, but I feel kind of weird calling out so many movies for being crummy when I myself haven;t been actually going to see any of them.

NAHHHHH. Let's face it, a crummy movie is a crummy movie, and one need not actually see it to recognize it. But I just hope I get the chance to see a good one or two eventually to get a vivid reminder of the difference.

True Confessions: Memoirs on the way

OK, so there's a new celebrity autobiography in the works. Maybe I should write "celebrity" autobiography, though, because the subject is everyone's favorite token-geek-on-insipid-teen-show-turned-cult-favorite-who-then-went-on-to-make-an-ass-of-himself-on-reality-TV, Dustin Diamond, AKA Screech on "Saved by the Bell."

Sounds bad enough, it's touted as a "tell-all." Check out this note from Radar Online:

News from the literary scene! Dustin Diamond, a cast member from the beloved television show Saved by the Bell, has signed a deal to write a memoir: "Behind the Bell," which Gotham Books preempted from Objective Entertainment's Jarred Weisfeld, promises to detail "sexual escapades among cast members, drug use, and hardcore partying."

OK, I confess: I want to read this book. I won't pay for it, mind you, at least not full retail for the hardcover, but I want to read it.

Yes, even if that phrase "cast members" includes Mr. Belding.

OK, especially if that includes Mr. Belding.

True Confessions: Can't Stop the Music

I must come clean, folks. Despite being a strong advocate of TV networks--especially premium and digital cable ones--showing films in their original aspect ratio, I watched an altered film recently, one I had recorded from Flix. Hey, I was lured in by the opening credit sequence, which was gloriously letterboxed, and I was so into the movie that when the picture squeezed, I couldn't...

Aw, who am I kidding. My confession is not that I watched a distorted movie on cable. My confession is that the movie was "Can't Stop the Music." Yes, the 1980 epic that not only stars the Village People, but tells the story of the creation of (a fictional version of) the Village People. All this and Steve Guttenberg. And Bruce Jenner. I watched the whole thing.

Can't Stop the Shame is more like it.

This is quite possibly the gayest movie ever made, and don't get me wrong because I am not using "gayest" as a perjorative. No, I mean "Can't Stop the Music" is literally gay from start to finish, and that's even before the movie finds an excuse to get to San Francisco. It's no shock that would be the case for a late-seventies flick (though released in '80) that features the Village People, but still!

It's amusing that Valerie Perrine is top billed in this one. She does play a lead role, but you can't help but think someone decided the only way to trick straight males into seeing this was to promote Perrine as the star and put her in lots of tight clothes . Of course, there's way more beefcake than cheesecake in the finished product, so there may have been some seriously miffed macho men (as opposed to Macho Men) at the theaters. Of course, it WAS the late seventies, so maybe it was no big deal...

I think the single gayest moment has to be when Jenner's previously uptight suit-and-tie-wearing tax attorney quits his job on the spot and becomes the lawyer for the Village People. Suddenly, in the next scene, Jenner is leading the gang down the street while sporting a half-shirt and cut off blue jeans, an ensemble that somehow looks even more flamboyant than the parade of Indian, biker, and cowboy costumes trailing him. Yes, even more than the song called "Liberation," even more than the commercial, "Milkshake" that the band stars in, this transformation is the epitome of the movie's gay ethos.

Again, don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that "Can't Stop the Music" is terrible because it's gay. It's terrible because of the writing, the acting, and the songs. But if you want to see a grand example of how gay culture meets crap culture, proceed to right around the 1:15 mark and experience the spectacle that is the music video for "YMCA." This has to be seen to be believed, a jaw-dropping blend of ridiculous choreography, gratuitous split screen and other visual effects, and flashes of male and female nudity.

About the only good thing I can say about this one is that nobody's made a sequel. Oh, I laughed a few times, I'll admit, but...whew! What a movie!

True Confessions: The Fugitive

Yes, I have a confession to make. See, there's this classic show called "The Fugitive," a landmark 1960s drama which Paramount finally got around to releasing on DVD last year. I was really excited at the prospect of adding this great series to my collection. Heck, I was anxious just to see some episodes again, as I had more or less been shut out of my Richard Kimble fix since A&E quit airing it over a decade ago.

Even though the sets were bare bones, I urged everyone to buy these DVDs to ensure that the series would continue and we could get all 4 seasons on this format.

There was some bad news, though: Paramount went the dreaded split-season route on this one, forcing fans to wait 4-6 months between half-sets, likely paying a little more per episode, too.

Still, I urged everyone to buy the set despite the studio's aggravating strategy. After all, I wanted strong sales so I could see more seasons!

Well, here is my True Confession, folks. I'm a free rider. You see, I have decided to stick to my no-split-seasons purchases credo, and even though I love the show and would love to own it on shiny little discs, I am not buying "The Fugitive" on DVD. No, I'm renting the episodes and watching it that way!

What can I say? I know I'm a hypocrite, but I have to draw the line somewhere in my purchases. I thank all of you who ARE buying this show and presumably keeping it going, but I won't be joining you until maybe we have assurances they'll all be coming out...and the price comes down a bit.

In reality, "The Fugitive" is so good, it's worth the price (Shh! Don't tell Paramount). Take, for instance the last disc of the Season 1 Volume 1 set, the last one I've seen (I'm trying to space them out so I don't burn them and have to wait too long for the next set). This disc alone features "Terror at High Point" with special guest star Jack Klugman--'NUFF SAID--"Glass Tightrope" (with Leslie Nielsen) in which Kimble finds himself in a tough spot as the only man who can clear an innocent man of murder (which of course hits home, hmm?) and two other great episodes that reveal the Secret Origin of The Fugitive. In one, Kimble recovers from a car accident and flashes back to The Incident. In the other, he returns home to Indiana, where we meet his family and where Lt. Girard tries to track him down.

This is just one disc, but it's filled with 4 fine episodes and lots of the guest stars whose presence help make TV of the era so much fun. Of course, the fine performance of David Janssen is front and center, and the top-notch writing and music help create the atmosphere which makes the series so gripping even today.

Yep, I love "The Fugitive," but I confess I'm not supporting it. I'm a free rider. That is my True Confession.

True Confessions: Heart's "Never"

I'm just come right out and say it: I heard "Never" by Heart on the radio the other day, and, yes, I kind of rocked out to it in my car. That alone might be embarrassing enough, but my True Confession involves my descent into The Three Circles of Shame. More specifically:

The First Circle of Shame: In which I kept the station on there and actually turned the volume up, all the better to hear it in all its Big 80s sonic glory. In this stage of shame, I feel sufficiently awkward to be hesitant to post this info in public on this blog.

This was quickly followed by my entry into...

The Second Circle of Shame: In which I sang along--at high volume--to the song. "We can't go ooooooo---ooooo--nnnn just running away, if we stay any longer, we will surely never get away..." Once I have reached this circle, I am ashamed to admit my behavior even to close friends and loved ones. It's difficult to confess this activity to my wife.

Things only got worse, though, as the next stop was the end of the line, the place from which there is no easy exit (insert Iraq joke here)...

The Third Circle of Shame: In this circle, I am so apalled by my own actions that I can't even relive them in my own mind. I am in a constant state of denial, refusing to believe I could be capable of such disgraceful deeds. This Third Circle of Shame is truly a private hell, and since I entered, living with myself is a constant struggle. But since my idea behind True Confessions is cleansing my slate and hopefully overcoming my deep-seated feelings of shame, I will now reveal what I did to earn my spot in this Third Circle.

At one point during the song--OK, several points--I actually did the Nancy Wilson rock and roll head tilt that she does in the video.

Even when she does it, it looks lame today, but she has the advantages of 1) being in a band, 2) being in a video, 3) holding a guitar, 4) being a chick, and 5) having really big hair. I offer none of these qualities, of course, making what I did in the car inexcusable.

What was I thinking? Well, that's the point. I wasn't thinking at all, I was rocking. Sure, 1980s-era Heart is kind of goofy, but "Never" has a great sound, slick as it is, and it's just tough to turn away when it comes on. Does this excuse me going so far as to plunge into The Third Circle of Shame? No, it does not, but I was caught up in the moment.

If you want to share in my shame, check out Nancy's head tilt at about 34 seconds into this clip
Just don't blink. She did this in a lot of her videos, as I recall, and it looked pretty cool when she did so. Not so much when I tried it. Hey, in my defense, at least I didn't do a random high leg kick, as she does about a few dozen times in this clip. Then again, if I hadn't been driving...

True Confessions: 10/30/07

Welcome to Cultureshark True Confessions, an occasional series in which I spill my guts and reveal some behavior or preference of which I am not particularly proud.

True believers, there must have been something in the air today. Perhaps the onset of All Hallow's Eve is warping my soul. You see, my dark side emerged this afternoon, and while I'm not proud of my actions, I feel I must confess them.

I went to the express checkout to take a book from the local library, and the computer informed me I had a 25-cent fine outstanding. I briefly fingered the shiny new quarter (Louisiana, if you're wondering) in my left pocket and prepared myself to part with it...

BUT NO! The computer was still going to let me check out my book, so why bother? I released the quarter, took the book, and hightailed it out of there without paying my fine.

Yep, it was a rebellious moment, and yes, you could have called me B.A.--and I don't mean Benevolent Altruist. I fled without settling my accounts with the library and took another book to boot. But I beg you, don't judge me. It was a temporary lapse, a mere indiscretion. Halloween does strange things to a man, I tell you...